2 metres
the distance a spider strings his anchor strand
between elder and bramble, daisy and rose, sky and land
the shift the sea slips over sand the day we walk
apart, talking, taking in the air, the smell of sea rack
the span of white tailed eagle wings that circle mile on mile
the sprint the woodmouse darts to shelter in the log pile
the leap we take from rock to rock to cross the river
the length of a coffin, slowly lowered then gone forever
the depth of sinking, shedding soil and crumbled coastline;
it is the drop and height and width of running out of time
Alison Grant lives in Inverness, and works as a landscape architect and forester. She has had poems included in various anthologies, most recently in Waymaking, an anthology of women’s adventure writing published by Vertebrate Press.
new boots and pantisocracies 